


Priceless

by IStillLoveER



Category: E.R.
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-17
Updated: 2017-05-17
Packaged: 2018-11-01 21:34:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 927
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10930467
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IStillLoveER/pseuds/IStillLoveER
Summary: Luka wakes up next to a beautiful woman ... and remembers other mornings ... another woman ... another life."He started to reach for her, to touch the calm face, the hair scattered across the pillow. Maybe even a gentle kiss. But no, he really didn't want to wake her. So he settled for looking at her face in the dim light of dawn – enjoying the moment."





	Priceless

**Author's Note:**

> A shiny new fic. Very short. Also posted to that other site.

Luka turned off the alarm quickly, before it woke her. Slight hangover notwithstanding, he had to get up for work. But she didn't have to get up, so there was no sense in waking her. She wouldn't work again until tonight.

He started to reach for her, to touch the calm face, the hair scattered across the pillow. Maybe even a gentle kiss. But no, he really didn't want to wake her. So he settled for looking at her face in the dim light of dawn – enjoying the moment. This had always been his favorite part of the day in every relationship he had ever had. Oh, he couldn't deny that he enjoyed the sex … the conversation … the chance to laugh together, be together. But there was something about waking up together in the early morning, or rather, waking up to see another person in the bed beside him that was … priceless. This was what he missed most when he was alone. And he had been alone for so long.

 

Of course for most of his life he hadn't been alone. Alone was something new, and still so painful. Eighteen years of growing up with his brother and parents in a cramped 3 room flat. Longing for the day when he'd have his own space, and quiet time alone to think and dream. Then a tiny dorm room shared with his friends – and barely enough room to turn around. And then a succession of almost-as-tiny flats with Danijela and the children as they arrived. Even then he sometimes longed for some time alone. As much as he loved them, he still needed time and space to breathe, to think, to dream.

The early mornings though … he had always loved the early mornings, waking up in bed beside her. The room might have been crowded, but it was always quiet in those dawn hours. He would have to get up early for class, or his clinical shift at the hospital, but he would let Danijela sleep. So many of those nights she had been up, he knew, with the baby. (She never woke to the alarm clock, but always woke to the baby's cries. And she would quickly get up to rock and nurse the baby, so _he_ wouldn't wake. She knew he had to get up early.) When his alarm rang he would turn it off and then sit up quietly, careful to not disturb her. He'd sit for a few minutes and watch her sleep, touch the hair scattered on the pillow and never want anything more from life than this … never imagine that it would ever change.

When the siege began, there were times when he didn't make it home at all for days. Sleep meant an hour, maybe two, snatched in the corner of the hall (empty beds were only to be dreamed of), before the next wave of casualties. But then after a few days of this there might be a break in the shelling and his supervisor would take pity on him; tell him to go home and sleep, see his family, come back in the morning. (He was the only intern who was married and had a family. They all knew how hard it was on him.)

It was usually well past midnight when he made it back to the flat. It was dark and quiet, and everyone was asleep. They too were taking advantage of a break in the shelling. He would undress and slip quietly into bed … and sometimes Jasna would be there, in his place, curled up against her mother. The shelling frightened her; she was scared to sleep alone. Marko was too young to understand. He believed them when they told him it was thunder, and he slept contentedly in his crib in the corner. But Jasna was old enough to understand what was happening. She understood, and she was afraid. So Danijela would let her sleep in their bed. She was afraid too.

Luka would squeeze onto the edge of the too-narrow bed, and sometimes Danijela would half-wake up.

"You should have wakened me," she would say.

"You were tired. We're all tired." And he would kiss her, and Jasna, and for a few precious hours, they would sleep.

Until the alarm clock again, and the dawn. He would sit up, look at Danijela's face in the dim light of early morning; the dark circles under her eyes, the hard lines of fatigue and worry that never left her, even in sleep. But still so beautiful. And Jasna's face, pale and tear-streaked. For a few minutes he would sit there, enjoying the moment, watching her sleep, wondering if, perhaps, he should wake her, so they could talk for a while. But no, there would be plenty of time for conversation after the war was over. Watching her sleep was enough.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Luka sighed, and looked at the clock again, and at her sleeping face. She was beautiful in the dim light of dawn. Or perhaps she wasn't really asleep, but was just pretending to be. If she was asleep, after all, he could expect nothing more of her. But he didn't expect anything more of her. This really was enough.

Another minute, watching her sleep, and then he'd get up. It was still early enough that he had time to stop at home to shower and change before work.

Another minute for him to imagine … pretend … that he wasn't alone. This _was_ priceless. Worth just about anything to him.

It was even worth two thousand dollars.


End file.
